


If I Lose Myself

by alyxpoe



Series: Snippets of Inspiration for Fanfic [10]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gen, I don't want to tag too much and give it a way, M/M, Romance, i don't know why this just happened, just some fluff, men kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyxpoe/pseuds/alyxpoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, this happened. (Author yanks silver tray from beneath sofa and shows off this story to you.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Lose Myself

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost midnight and I started this at eight thirty. I don't know why or how, because I'll be honest, I'm not much of a Christmas person. Had a couple things I wanted to try out, so here, enjoy my experiment (or not! totally up to you! lol)

_“I stared up at the sun,_

_Thought of all of the people, places and things that I’ve loved_

_I stared up just to see_

_…with all of the faces, you were the one next to me_. _”_

Captain Martin Crieff rolls over and shuts off the music. The obnoxiously bright LCD face of the clock on the bedside table informs him that it is half six and his brain fills in the rest. His eyes scan the room quickly, landing on his snow white uniform hanging in its transparent dry-cleaning bag on the back of the door then skimming over it to the photographs on the wall where details are impossible to see at this hour on a winter morning, even with the weak light pouring through the crack in the drapes, evening out the colors and making everything monochromatic.

He sighs, runs his fingers through knotted curls and rolls over to face absolutely nothing save for an unused pillow and neat bedclothes. Judging by that fact alone, apparently he had a pretty quiet night. He admits to be completely exhausted by the time they all arrived back at the airport last night. Fitton, being the tiny town that it is, usually rolls up the pavements at ten o’clock, so when he and the rest of the crew from GERTI arrived at half three this morning, well, there was no one to greet them.

Martin remembers starting the engine on his vehicle and driving home and then getting to the front door, unlocking it, taking enough time to take a quick piss and then strip and fall into bed.

Martin sighs again, though this time it is interrupted by a rather vicious yawn that causes his jaw to snap. He sits up and rubs at his eyes, taking note of the way his fingers catch on coarse stubble on his chin. If there was ever a time to remind himself to shave, this is it. Pushing himself to the edge of the bed, his eyes alight on the white set of clothing he gets to wear today. He smiles a little, stretches his hands up over his head then pads towards the loo, telling himself that today is going to be a good day.

He showers quickly, efficiently, working the knots out of his hair and making sure to use the special rinse that Caitlin bought him a few weeks ago. For once, he finds himself thankful to his sister and glad at least someone in the family shares the same trait of untamable curls; granted, when they were younger it always looked better on her, too; he has to admit that it seems odd to share ‘beauty secrets’ with anyone…but he knows now that he couldn’t have anyone better on his side.

Martin towels himself off briskly then wraps the fluffy green bath towel around his hips. He snugs it tightly, never mind the fact that he’s the only one here. He opens the drawer under the basin and takes out his razor and shaving cream, then leans forward towards the mirror, noting the redness that still lingers in the whites of his eyes. Yesterday’s flight had certainly been unplanned for everyone involved, but Carolyn played them right, even throwing in ‘Christmas bonuses’ for the effort.

Naturally, Martin had kicked up a fuss about being out of hours, but Douglas had smoothed things over and a catered meal and the largest cheese tray Martin had ever seen in his life before delivered before they even left Fitton for Vienna. Smiling at the first officer’s kind gesture, he lathers on the softly scented foam and deftly traces the shape of his jaw with his blade. As he shaves, he thinks about how good it felt to actually win one of the games this time. The brie was lovely, but the emmental was even better and he remembers doing a bit of a victory wiggle over that one.

*

_“You can feel the light start to tremble_   
_…washing what you know out to sea._   
_You can see your life out of the window tonight…”_

A few blocks away from Martin, First Officer Douglas Richardson hits his phone to turn off the alarm so hard that the thing skitters across the bedside table and into the floor. The ear-splitting sound of it landing in two pieces makes Douglas jerk upward onto his arms with a groan. He has absolutely no time for shenanigans this morning! Granted, he would have happily gone along with a particular type of shenanigans last night…no, wait, that was earlier this morning, wasn’t it? He flops back down onto his belly and buries his head into the pillow. Sometimes he hates hotels and their scratchy linens washed with stinking ‘unscented’ detergent. He stays there for a moment, wondering just how close it can cut it today without his lateness causing undue drama.

Of course, that leads him to _other_ thoughts and in a matter of seconds, he is out of the bed and sitting up rubbing at his neck and rolling his shoulders. He hates not being able to sleep in his own bed, really though, it’s all his fault so he may as well ‘man up’ as the kids say nowadays.

He shrugs out of his vest and scratches at the coarse spattering of hair on his broad chest, then lets his hands splay over his slightly-more-soft-belly-than…well, more years than he likes to think about, all things considered and thank-you-very-much. Douglas looks down at his bare feet and retrieves his phone, its battery, and the back of it. He works the pieces back together, muttering to himself all the while and secretly hoping Carolyn has called him for some mundane reason so he can tell her his phone was in pieces this morning and let her mind fashion up some reason why that would be so.

When the machine flashes on, however, nothing greets him except for the little avatars for ‘messages’ and ‘calls,’ both with zeroes annoyingly pasted over them.

“Fine,” he grumbles as he drops the phone onto the bed. It bounces once then lands there, looking up at him in a sulky manner. He makes a _hrmph_ sound between pursed lips and moves across the room to pull back the blind. Outside, the early morning sun is doing its best to break through heavy gray clouds. At some point since he’s been here, there has been a light shower of snow. Tiny winks of brightness peek up at him from the pavement three floors below.

All told, this room is one of the best his boss has ever sent him to.

“Might as well take advantage of it, Richardson,” he mutters to himself as he brushes his hand over his white jacket, making sure it is as pristine as he wants it to be. Taking one last look around the room, he pulls his old shaving kit out of the suitcase he’d dumped by the door when he got in, too bone-crushingly weary to do anything much about it except leave it there. Not like he has anyone at the moment to complain about things not being in their rightful places, anyway.

He drags himself to the shower and turns the tap then instantly gives it up as a bad job. Pulling back the curtain the rest of the way, he is taken completely off guard at the absolutely massive hot tub revealed. Since there is no way he’s waiting until he gets back here tonight to try out this baby, he flips the tap back to fill the tub and then spends the next forty-five minutes soaking, letting the hot water and steam ease his aches and pains away.

It is almost eight o’clock before he’s finished and he has been hearing his phone go off for about the last half hour. Still ignoring it, he grabs the old glossy brown ceramic mug off the sink that he put there and, with the soft-bristled brush made for this purpose in his other hand, whips up the shaving cream from the bottom with a few drops of warm water. Satisfied with the consistency of the stuff, he takes out his great-grandfather’s straight razor that he’d sharpened just yesterday morning before getting the call for a last-minute flight to Vienna. He turns his attention to his jawline and tilts his head to catch the light in order to ensure an even, straight line.

Practice makes perfect, and Douglas will tell anyone that he’s been practicing with that particular blade since he was fifteen. Of course, no one has ever asked him, so he’s never volunteered that information. With one last pass over his cheek, his shaving is complete. He runs his palm over his face then pats on his aftershave and winces at the slight sting. They’ve been so busy the past few weeks with flights hither and yon that he’s forgotten just how _smooth_ the straight razor lives his face.

“Smooth as a baby’s behind and fresh as a daisy!” Douglas informs his smiling visage in the mirror before passing a small towel over his hair. When it falls the right way the first time, he grins smugly at himself and squirts out some gel into his hand and runs it through the thick locks.

Now doubly pleased and thinking that his normal bit of luck is very much in evidence here, he wanders into the main area of the room, towel half-heartedly wrapped around his hips. He is in the middle of laying out his clothes when there’s a loud knock—no, more of a bang really—at the door.

“Douglas! Douglas, are you in there?” That loud voice can be no one other than Arthur. Douglas sighs and grabs for the dressing gown draped over the end of the bed.

“Douglas? Douglas? Look, Mum is going to kill me if we are late!” Arthur’s big hand hits the door so hard it rattles.

Perhaps this hotel isn’t as snazzy as Douglas thought it was. He flicks the lock and yanks the door open, much to Arthur’s surprise as he almost falls in.

“Arthur, we have _hours_ yet, and besides, where else would I be?” Douglas half-growls at the steward.

“No we don’t.” Arthur tries to argue and not look at Douglas at the same time. When Douglas sees the blush on the younger man’s face, he takes stock in himself. The terry dressing gown has fallen open to reveal his chest and it would be pretty obvious to anyone, even Arthur, that he’s pretty much not wearing anything beneath it.

“Oh, Arthur, you can’t even see anything!” Douglas chides him.

Instead of saying anything, however, Arthur holds up a small paper bag. “I got us some doughnuts!”

Douglas’ empty stomach does a bit of a cartwheel and he remembers that he hasn’t eaten anything since the cheese tray on the return trip last night. The cheese tray that he actually managed to lose the emmental _and_ the brie to Martin from. He ignores the feeling and decides that teasing Arthur will better help pass the time.

“You didn’t answer me,” he states, grabbing the clothes off the bed and heading back into the loo. Hopefully the steam has dissipated enough that it will only smooth out wrinkles and little else.

“’bout what?” Arthur calls, the sound muffled around what is presumably a quite exasperatingly _huge_ bite of fried dough.

Douglas rolls his eyes and prays to himself for patience as he tugs on his trousers. He slips into his shirt and stubbornly ignores the slight tremor in his fingers. He’s just hungry.

“Arthur, you don’t happen to have any coffee with you, by chance?” Douglas sits down on the lid of the toilet and takes a deep breath and tells himself that this feeling will pass. His stomach ignores him and grumbles even more loudly.

“No.” Arthur calls back in a small voice. “If we get moving, though, I’ll stop and grab us both one.”

“Alright, thank you,” Douglas closes his eyes and counts to ten. He is just wasting time now and this has to stop. After a few seconds he feels steady again, so he finishes dressing, takes one last look at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. He straightens his cuffs and heads out to Arthur who beams at him, looking even sillier than normal with a smear of pink icing on the edge of his mouth.

Douglas only shakes his head then stops himself mid-way by clenching his teeth against a new feeling of hunger that strikes him again.

“Shall we?” he asks Arthur who nods, seeming star struck. “Are you alright to drive?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely Douglas!” Arthur shakes off his stupor, closes his mouth and opens the door. “After you, sir!”

Douglas chuckles a little, impressed at the fact that Arthur of all people can click his heels so neatly.

*

Martin slides into the backseat of Carolyn’s Lexus carefully as she drops into the front.

“Alright, Martin?” she asks as she adjusts the rearview mirror. As it moves, he catches a quick reflection of himself. His cheeks are the same color as his hair, a fact that makes him blush even more.

Carolyn chuckles softly under her breath. “We’ve got an hour, fancy some breakfast?”

Martin’s stomach gurgles, the traitor. He looks down at his clean and freshly pressed trousers. “No. Tea maybe…” then he thinks about it. “No, actually, you know, maybe a bottle of water?” He grits his teeth against the stammer.

“Sure, I’ve got some right here.” Carolyn magically conjures up a bottle that isn’t too cold and hands it back to him.

“Thanks,” he manages before concentrating on taking a sip as she pulls out into traffic.

She flips on the stereo and Martin does his best to think about his upcoming day. Hopefully, everything will run smoothly even if Douglas shows up late.

“I have one stop to make, I’m sorry Martin. We should get in about half hour early that way. That should give you enough time for your prep. Alright?”

Martin notices that she’s not really giving him any room to argue. Without his own ride, he’s pretty much at her mercy so he just nods into the mirror, watching as her blue eyes bore into his. He just bites back saying ‘yes, ma’am.’ Carolyn must know that but she doesn’t acknowledge it, simply turns on the radio and keeps her eyes on the road ahead.

Martin smiles a bit and tries to relax and listen to the music.

_“If I lose myself tonight,_   
_It’ll be by your side._   
_I lose myself tonight..._   
_(oh) yeah, yeah, yeah.”_

*

“Arthur, do I even want to know what this _noise_ is that you are listening to?” Douglas grumbles as he most emphatically does _not_ fidget in the passenger seat of his own car.

“Oh, that?” Arthur asks innocently, hitting the eject button at the same time as he hits the turn signal. His head swivels back and forth as he checks traffic then down at the CD that has pushed out of the stereo. “That’s Insane Clown Posse.”

“What?” Douglas asks, slightly horrified. “On _my_ stereo?”

“Well, yeah, but you said…” Arthur tries.

Douglas cuts him off. “No.” He thinks about it. “Well, yes, I guess I did say you could use the CD player but _that_ …” he points towards the CD Arthur is tossing in the general direction of the backseat. “…honestly, I don’t even know what _that_ is! And I know music.”

Douglas does know music, anything from Rachmaninoff to the Blues to Prince and of course Guess Who and the Beatles…even that young Australian girl singing about cutting her teeth on wedding rings in the movies…maybe he’ll even admit to liking some of the underground bands…but never _that_.

He holds up a hand to stop Arthur from making what he is sure is going to be quite an _informative_ speech and presses the ‘scan’ button. “It’s fine, Arthur, can we please find something we can both agree on?”

“Sure, Douglas!” Arthur grins happily and pats his thigh with the beat of the song in progress when the scanner stops on a station.

Since no one seems to be doing irreparable damage to their vocal chords, Douglas decides to let it ride. He forces himself not to watch someone else driving _his_ car, instead looks out the window in order to watch the streets pass by. At least everything is decorated for Christmas, last night’s slightly dusting of snow is certainly cheery enough. Speaking of cheery, Douglas turns his head to regard Arthur who is really getting into the song now, bobbing his head and patting the steering wheel. Douglas decides not to interrupt him, because being late is certainly better than arriving _dead_.

_“I woke up with the sun,_   
_…thought of all of the people, places and things I’ve loved._   
_I woke up just to see_   
_With all of the faces, you were the one next to me…”_

*

When they finally arrive, Douglas looks down at his phone and is surprised to see that it is half eleven. Perhaps he did waste _a bit_ of time, but there’s no use in waving about that particular dead cat at this point. He knocks the slush off his shoes and steps into a virtual wonderland of poinsettias, garland, and gold and silver ribbon.

“Arthur, I do believe you outdid yourself this time,” Douglas turns to the steward and claps him on the back.

Arthur beams.

*

“He’s late, isn’t he, Carolyn.”

Carolyn looks up from the book in her hands, studies Martin’s face and smiles softly. “Did you really expect anything else?” she answers his question with another one.

Martin scowls, clenches his hands together tightly behind his back. He holds up the paper in his hand, waving it like a flag. “Always getting out of the paperwork, he does.”

Carolyn doesn’t exactly laugh, but she does smirk and raise one snow-white eyebrow at him.

Martin, taken down a notch, blushes and returns his attention to the document he is signing.

Arthur opens the door.

*

Christmas decorating has never really been Martin’s _thing_ , but he has to admit that everything looks beautiful. It is certainly much more tasteful than he thought he’d ever give Arthur credit for being, and he makes a mental note not to question Arthur’s methods when it comes to stuff like this ever again.

Multi-colored fairy lights twinkle merrily on the walls while real candles flicker on the tables. Holly wreathes and mistletoe adorn the walls. All of the lights have been dimmed in the place and music is playing softly. Martin recognizes the instrumental version of the song that he’s already heard twice today and smiles.

The arms around him tighten and pull him in closer. Martin returns the hug then steps back and looks up, taking in every detail of Douglas Richardson in a pristine white tuxedo. Like Martin, he is wearing a deep red shirt, white vest and a white jacket. Douglas’ tie is white with a tiny red print on it that on closer inspection turns out to be minute peppermint sticks.

Martin’s suit matches Douglas’, though his tie is a red silk material printed with wee airplanes. The buttons on his jacket, his belt buckle and tie tack are silver where Douglas’ are gold.

Douglas leans down and Martin beats him to it, pushing himself up on the toes of his white shoes. At this point, he can care less if anyone laughs at his red Christmas striped socks. The only thing that matters right now is the brand new ring on his finger and the smiling lips he’s pressing his own against.

Martin starts to draw away but Douglas isn’t about to let that happen. He growls deep in his chest, a sound so low that only Martin can hear it, and grips the Captain with his right hand on his shoulder and his left one on Martin’s hip. Martin giggles nervously and he can hear the sound of his sister and his mother laughing behind him.

Martin grasps the hand on his hip, feeling a tremor of pure joy that sizzles down his spine at the sound of their rings against one another. Douglas’ hand on Martin’s shoulder moves to the back of his neck and tilt his head to where Douglas wants it. Martin is on vaguely aware of camera flashes going off, but later he’ll know full well Douglas _posed_ him.

When Douglas finally lets him go, they stand in front of the friends and family gathered there, hand in hand. Martin lets his tears fall and when Douglas sweeps him into another embrace that moves them to the dance floor, every memory they’ve made together—as friends, then lovers and now, as husbands—is contained within the circle of their arms.

“I love you,” Douglas says earnestly, brown eyes turned the color of molten chocolate in the candlelight.

“I love you, too, Douglas.” Martin tells him, allowing the first officer to lead them gracefully around the dance floor that Martin thinks he is barely touching, his soul is so very happy.

*

After a few dances, some wine, conversation with family and friends alike, Martin tugs Douglas outside. The party has lasted longer than anyone expected, and the sun is going down, painting the sky in an exquisite pallet of complimentary colors. A fresh dusting of snow is falling.

Douglas leans up against the building and pulls Martin closer to him. He rests one hand on Martin’s hip, using the other one to bring his chin up so that he can look into green eyes filled with an emotion he can hardly give a name to.

“I apologize for being late,” Douglas strokes Martin’s cheek.

Martin grins up at his brand new husband. “I knew you would be. The ceremony was officially scheduled for one o’clock.”

Douglas blinks at him, opens his mouth and then lets out a full-belly laugh that brings tears to his eyes.

Martin fiddles with the holly leaf and berry boutonniere pinned to his lapel. “Well…”

Douglas laughs again, this time wrapping Martin fully in his arms and crushing his lighter frame against his chest. “I guess you were worth losing the emmental _and_ the brie this time, then.”

“Douglas, are we really going to stand out here on this gorgeous night and talk about cheese?” Martin inquires, gripping Douglas’ lapels with both hands.

“Ah, I thought that was the reason you dragged me away from your party…” Douglas allows his voice to drop from seductive to sultry.

Martin growls a bit himself. “I missed you last night.”

In the dying light, Martin’s eyes are as clear as sea glass. Douglas has no idea how to actually say that without sounding ridiculously sappy, so he nods and says honestly, “believe me, I did you, too. Though there wasn’t much ‘night’ left of it by the time Arthur dropped me off, I should remind you.”

Martin chuckles, looks at the ground then at their hands where Douglas has curled his fingers around Martin’s.

“…though I will admit the room she put us in is much better than her usual standards…” Douglas states.

Martin grins, raising himself up on his toes again. He steps in closer. “What you mean it has hot water _and_ electricity?”

Douglas feels like an idiot. He cannot seem to stop laughing. “Oh, there’s much more than that! How about we blow this joint and you can join me for a decadent bath?”

Martin kisses him chastely, a mischievous expression on his face. “I don’t know, Mister Richardson, I am now a happily married man.”

He doesn’t really give Douglas a chance to say anything else, though, grabbing his tie and hauling him downward so he can take over the kiss for a bit. When they come up for air this time, the DJ has turned the music up louder and above the bass line, they can hear very plainly,

_“Take us down and we keep trying,_   
_Forty thousand feet, keep flying._   
_Take us down and we keep trying,_   
_Forty thousand feet, keep flying…”_

“That’s us, Martin.” Douglas tells him as they turn together to go inform their guests of their impending departure, as well as for Douglas to get his keys back from Arthur.

“What is?” Martin asks, his mind only partially on anything other than Douglas at the moment. Douglas cocks his head to the side in the doorway of the hall.

“That,” he states.

Martin listens for a few seconds. “No, it’s both of us, really.”

After that, neither man says anything for a while because someone decided that the top of the doorway is a perfect spot to place a sprig of mistletoe.

 

_If I lose myself tonight,_

_It will be you and I..._

 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"If I Lose Myself," (C) One Republic. No copyright infringement intended. Unfortunately every freaking thing I hear on the radio now leads to one of my ships! 

 

Links for your joy: [the boys’ tuxedos](http://www.savviformalwear.com/Tuxedos/White-Lexington-by-Chaps-by-Ralph-Lauren-267.aspx).

[The boys’ ‘fancy’ rings](https://www.etsy.com/listing/186790876/mens-wedding-bandred-tungsten-ringred?ref=sr_gallery_1&ga_search_query=men%27s+wedding+rings+red&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery). They both have plain titanium and gold bands to wear when working, since the red on these probably doesn’t match their MJN uniforms very well.


End file.
